More Important Things
by ScrawledThoughts
Summary: Hermione is on her deathbed, and Harry must admit some things to himself and to her. Spoilers for Sorcerer's Stone--feedback accepted!


"Ron's right. I have to go alone."  
  
He looked straight into her eyes. They were strong, brave, courageous, only showing a hint of the fear he was sure must be coursing through her.  
  
"You'll be okay, Harry. You're a great wizard. Really, you are." His eyebrows rose slightly.  
  
"Not as good as you." She almost couldn't believe what she was hearing. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the one person who had defeated You-Know- Who twice and had lived to tell about it, who was about to go and face the Dark Lord again, was saying that she was a better wizard?  
  
"Me? Books, and cleverness. There are more important things. Friendship, and bravery. And Harry, just be careful!" Without even thinking about the consequences of her action, she quickly reached over and hugged him. He hugged her tightly, and she buried her head in his shoulder, afraid that she would never see him again.  
  
They broke the embrace, and quietly Harry got up from where he had been kneeling next to Ron, and turned to walk into the next room, to fight the Dark Lord, Voldemort.  
  
That had been almost five years ago. Now that Hermione Granger and Harry Potter were in their sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Harry had fought Voldemort four more times after that, Harry had thought that nothing could ever really harm them.  
  
They both did.  
  
Until Voldemort decided to strike the one place he knew Harry's heart was.  
  
He had kidnapped Hermione, and tortured her beyond anything Harry could ever conceive. Amazingly, she had survived it. She truly was the great witch Harry had said she was. Although she had endured the torture, her mind was delicate, and her body even more fragile. She wasn't the same Hermione he and Ron had known. The best doctors in the wizarding world had tried to save her memory, and had succeeded partially. All the facts she had learned, all the knowledge she had gained, had been lost. She barely remembered Harry and Ron.  
  
Harry came to the infirmary every day to visit her. She would drift in and out of unconsciousness, opening her eyes briefly, then shutting them. Madam Pomfrey shook her head each time as Harry entered the infirmary at the same time every day.  
  
"That Potter," she would say to any professor that she happened to be talking to, "has fallen head-over-heels in love with the Granger girl."  
  
The days dragged on, and Harry's spirits sank. Each day that Hermione didn't wake, he knew that a part of her was dying inside, and an answering part inside him died with her. He knelt beside her, holding her hand, resting his head on the bed. Sometimes he would talk to her, tell her what had happened with Ron in Potions, or how many points Snape had deducted from Gryffindor.  
  
Other times he cried, tears pouring down his cheeks, cursing everyone. Himself, for not getting there in time to save her. Voldemort, for his evil, terrible ways. Hermione's bed would shake with his sobs. He would pound the floor, his pent-up frustration getting the better of him.  
  
"I mean, how am I gonna pass Herbology? Who am I gonna talk to every night? And talk about everything we did all day? You're my best friend, Hermione."  
  
The words fell out of his lips before he could even stop them. "I love you."  
  
He waited for what seemed an eternity. When she didn't move, he tried again.  
  
"Come on, 'Mione, wake up. I love you. I want to hold you again, to see your eyes light up when you laugh. I want to kiss you, like we did Valentine's Day, when I told you that you were the only one for me. That was right before. You-Know-Who did this to you. You were so happy then. So bright, and so full of life. That's the Hermione Granger I know.  
  
"Don't leave me, 'Mione. I need you."  
  
Her movement was so subtle that most people wouldn't have seen it. But Harry did, and a wave of joy and elation swept through him. He grabbed her hand, kissed it, wet it with his tears. Her eyes flickered and she cleared her throat.  
  
"H-Harry?" she asked weakly.  
  
"Yes, 'Mione. It's me," Harry replied, his voice trembling.  
  
"I. I love you too."  
  
Books, and cleverness. There are more important things.  
  
Friendship.  
  
And love. 


End file.
